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The Barnacle and the Gray Whale
Said the Barnacle, You enchant me, with your carnival of force. Yours is a system of slow. There is you, the pulley and there is you, the weight. Your eyes wide on a hymn. Your deep song like the turn of that first, that earliest of wheels. Said the Whale, I have seen you, little encruster, in that business of fouling the ships. Known, little drum machine, you to tease out food from the drink. Little thimble of chalk and hard water. You could be a callus of whiter skin. You could be a knucklebone. You who hang on me, like a conscience.